


the people who care

by idioglossia



Series: as a father loves his son [1]
Category: Magisterium Series - Holly Black & Cassandra Clare
Genre: Character Death, Don't copy to another site, Iron Trial, M/M, OMC is master rufus' husband bc HE'S CANON MLM Y'ALL, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Slash, William Rufus Raises Callum Hunt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-08-13 19:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20179822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idioglossia/pseuds/idioglossia
Summary: Alastair Hunt was too slow when he arrived for his son and wife. Master Joseph was too slow in realizing what had happened to Constantine Madden.OR:William Rufus never thought that he would be raising a child, but at this point, Callum Hunt had nowhere else to go.





	1. the child lives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure, I have no clue if I'm actually gonna finish this. I'll try to update twice a month, but we'll see how well that goes.
> 
> Anyways, I do plan for this to take place mainly at the Magisterium, switching between Aaron's POV and Master Rufus' POV. Enjoy!
> 
> Edit: Fixed spelling of Alastair's name! It was previously Alistair. Whoops!

Alastair could feel it growing harder and harder to breathe. He had fought- Master Joseph hadn’t left without a fair few injuries of his own. But it was clear to him that he had come away worse off. He wasn’t going to be walking away from this cold, barren cave alive. And Call- he muffled a sob at the thought. Master Joseph had left the child, thank god, but if Alastair died, then he wasn’t much better off. Unless- _unless_-  
  
Reaching out with the final vestiges of his magic, he called for Rufus, hoping he was strong enough to get his message through.  
  
_Rufus, come to the cave. You can still save one of us._  
  
It was cryptic, but Alastair felt confident that he would understand. He knew where he had gone. Now, he had one final thing to do before he joined Sarah. Ignoring the pain, Alastair dragged himself towards his crying son.  
  
-  
  
When William Rufus finally arrived at the scene of the Cold Massacre, two other mages in tow, there was no noise but the howling of the wind. He stepped past bodies of friends, former students, children. At first, when he came across the bodies of Sarah and Alastair- god, he’d died close to her, his left hand reaching out to hers- he thought he’d come too late.  
  
And then he saw the child. Callum Hunt was partially hidden by his father’s other arm and he was more dead than alive, but he was still breathing. Alastair had never meant to save himself, William realized. He had meant to save his son.  
  
“Over here,” he called, carefully plucking the baby from his father’s frozen grasp. He woke, crying, and William was sure his leg was broken, if not shattered. “The child is still alive.”  
  
None of them saw what Alastair had moved to cover- none of them would ever hear about the strange inscription in the ice. And just like that, the Enemy of Death would live again.  
  
-  
  
In the will of Sarah and Alastair Hunt, five people were listed as candidates to take their son in the case of their death. William Rufus was the last, and the last one living. He had known that he was on that list. Sarah had asked him when they’d told him that they would be having a child, and William had been delighted to say yes. He’d known that there was a possibility that he would get the child, but never had he thought it would be him and him alone.  
  
Of course, he had Sam to help him. Sam, who hadn’t so much as blinked when William had called him in the middle of his shift at the library and told him that they were officially responsible for a young child. Sam, who had no idea why this child- why _Callum_\- had really come into their care.  
  
At some point, William was going to have to tell him. It might not even be by choice if Callum’s magic showed itself unexpectedly. He glanced over at the small crib that they had purchased only two days ago when Callum had been deemed well enough to come home. His leg would ever be perfect- Master Amaranth predicted that he would walk with a limp for his whole life. It was better than being dead, William supposed.  
  
Callum took that moment to start crying. Wearily, he rose from his chair and picked him up. It was time for him to eat anyways, and he hoped that was the source of his tears. William had never planned on being a father, and he could only hope that he was truly up for the challenge.  
  
-  
  
“William,” Sam laughed, semi-incredulously. “William, come look at this!”  
  
It had been a year since Callum had joined their little family and they had settled into as much of a rhythm as anyone with a toddler could. It had taken him a while to learn how to walk, and he was still somewhat unsteady, but he was managing. He was just starting to speak, producing senseless babble that Sam took great joy in replying to.  
  
Smiling, William stood from his spot at the dining table and placed his breakfast plate on the counter. He walked into the living room, where Callum had managed to perch himself on top of the bookshelf, and was now making delighted noises. He blinked.  
  
“Uhh,” he said, still focused on the fact that their fourteen month old had managed to get himself onto their five-foot tall bookshelf, likely by using air magic.  
  
“I know,” Sam said, marvelling. “I have no idea how he got up there either.”  
  
“Our child is secretly Spiderman,” he joked weakly. “But I’m going to get him down from there before he falls.”  
  
“Sounds like a plan,” Sam replied. “I guess we’re going to need to toddler-proof the bookshelves somehow, now.”  
  
“We’ll work it out,” he agreed, carefully lifting Callum off of the shelf. He gurgled, happy to be with William, and he smiled at the baby, a little less freaked out. He wasn’t going to reveal their secret, not quite yet.  
  
-  
  
Nine years and a few too many odd occurrences later, the Big One finally came for them. There was officially no other way for William to explain this away.  
  
It had gone something like this: it was a greyish day and Callum had wanted to go out to the park. They had agreed. It wasn’t unpleasant outside, just somewhat dark, but either way, the park was largely empty. William had been talking to Sam for a few moments, and in that time an altercation had broken out. He had no idea what it was about- knowing Call, it was him not backing down, ever- but when he turned back to Call, the other boys were getting violent. Sam had gotten up, ready to storm over. The next moment, the ground beneath the other children was moving, cracking open at their feet. And Call- Call wasn’t even trembling from the movement. The ground was splitting in two directly in front of him and he wasn’t so much as jolted.  
  
“What the _fuck_?” Sam murmured, and William couldn’t help but agree with him. Or rather, he would agree with him, if he didn’t know exactly what was happening.  
  
Call looked shocked. The boys who had been attacking him had fled the scene, almost regrettably. William would really have liked to try talking to their parents. Call turned and ran to them. “What was that? Dad?”  
  
“I- I don’t know, kiddo,” Sam was floundering, clearly just as surprised as Call.  
  
He rubbed at his temples and met Call’s eyes. “I do. Looks like it’s finally time that we all have this talk.”  
  
Sam turned to him in confusion. “What do you mean, you _know_? William, what are you talking about?”  
  
“We’ll talk about it when we get home. For now, let’s just focus on that, shall we?”  
  
Call nodded slowly, deep in thought. Sam looked ready to argue, but he kept his mouth shut. The walk home was quiet and solemn, Sam refusing to meet William’s eyes, and Call glancing at his shoes every few feet. Finally, when they were around the kitchen table, William spoke.  
  
He told them about magic, about Call’s parents, about the war, about the Magisterium. He told them about the necessity for secrecy, partly for Call’s benefit and partly in a desperate attempt to make Sam understand why he couldn’t say anything. He could only hope it worked.  
  
When William was finished, the room was quiet for a moment.  
  
“Does that mean that you might be my teacher, then?” Call asked, his face warring between delight and horror.  
  
-  
  
That night, Sam sat on the bed they shared while William brushed his teeth, instead of crawling under the covers like he usually did. When he joined him, it was clear that he had been waiting.  
  
“So,” he said tiredly. “I get that you couldn’t tell me. I understand, and I’m trying very hard not to hold it against you. But I need you to understand something, too: I’m going to need some time. I need to digest this, and get over it, and that’s not going to happen overnight. I love you, William, and that’s not changing now or ever. I just- I need to work this out in my head before I can stop feeling mad that you couldn’t tell me, no matter how irrational that kind of is.”  
  
William nodded, a soft smile curling onto his face. He wasn’t going to lose Sam. “I can give you all the time you need.”  
  
-  
  
“Nervous?” asked Sam from his spot in the driver’s seat. Call was picking at his nails in the backseat of their humble Toyota and William was watching him through the rearview mirror. He didn’t like making the drive out to the hangar, but it was a necessary evil. At least this time, he had some company.  
  
“No.” Call’s response was sullen and annoyed. Definitely nervous.  
  
“Glad not be having me as your teacher for the next five years?” William asked, trying to lighten the mood.  
  
He didn’t say anything in response and William moved his assessment of Call’s mood from nervous to worried.  
  
“Okay, what’s going on?” he asked firmly.  
  
“_Nothing_, I swear!” Call said, still not looking up from his fingernails.  
  
Sam wasn’t buying it either. “Sure, and my name’s Callum Hunt.”  
  
“Nice to meet you, Call,” he grumbled, but William could see him caving. He sighed, finally looking up from his hands. “What if I don’t like anyone else in my apprentice group, or they don’t like me?”  
  
It wasn’t an entirely irrational fear. Callum, for all his good qualities, could be an abrasive and stubborn person, and he was slow to trust. William didn’t blame him; he’d had to have multiple talks with the principal and some fellow parents when Callum came home with assorted cuts and bruises.  
  
“Not all of them will dislike you, even if they aren’t really your friends. And I guarantee that at least one of the students at the Magisterium will become your friend, even if they aren’t in your apprentice group, or even your year,” William told him, and he believed what he said. “At the very least, it can’t be much worse than your old school.”  
  
“Yeah, okay,” Call conceded, relaxing his shoulders a little bit. He rubbed at his bad leg. “I’ve got you if stuff goes bad anyways. Thanks, Dad.”  
  
“No problem,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need you all to know that my soul died a little more every time I wrote the name William instead of Rufus.
> 
> I'm [nonbinary-androids](https://nonbinary-androids.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, PLEASE talk to me about The Magisterium. I'm obsessed once again and none of my friends have read it.


	2. school bells ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron fidgeted as he waited for the assessment to begin. He was determined to get into the Magisterium, and he was pretty confident that he would manage it. But there, in the back of his head, was the little voice that told him that maybe these kids had trained more and worked harder than he had, that he was going to fail.
> 
> OR
> 
> Aaron Stewart is determined to do well in the Iron Trials. He’s also feeling pretty determined to befriend the black-haired guy who’s doing some weird but somewhat cool stuff during it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I said I was planning to update this twice a month?? That was a lie lmao. I have no idea how long my wave of productivity is going to last, but I intend to ride it until I crash. I also had to split this chapter, so that'll be here sooner rather than later.
> 
> There aren't many major differences in this chapter, just some set up. Also, I did take/adapt a lot of the masters' dialogue from The Iron Trial, because why reinvent the wheel? Anyways, enjoy!!

Aaron fidgeted as he waited for the assessment to begin. He was determined to get into the Magisterium, and he was pretty confident that he would manage it. But there, in the back of his head, was the little voice that told him that maybe these kids had trained more and worked harder than he had, that he was going to fail. It was particularly loud today, and had been for almost a week now.  
  
In an attempt to calm himself a little, Aaron looked around at the other people in the hangar. There was a pair of extravagantly dressed parents and their tiny son, a girl with a vibrant rainbow sweater, and a mother whose enormous mass of blonde hair was largely blocking her daughter from view. Curiously, there was also a boy with black hair waving at one of the mages. He was sitting next to a man who looked very little like him, with brown eyes adorned with huge, circular glasses and light brown skin.  
  
Then, one of the mages started speaking and Aaron turned his attention to that. He listened carefully, but was still surprised when he heard the disembodied voice. _Go to the front when the master, Master North, was finished speaking_. Aaron could do that. He walked up to the mage closest to him, a young woman with a bright streak of pink in her hair. She smiled nervously at him and Aaron smiled back. It was nice to see someone else was nervous, even if that someone was one of the teachers.  
  
They were all lead into a room with desks and tests on them. Aaron ended up next to the the black-haired boy from before and shot him a smile. He received a tentative one in return. Then, Master Milagros started talking.  
  
“First of all, I want to welcome you all to the Iron Trial,” she said, clearing her throat. Aaron thought she was probably a pretty new teacher. “Now that we’re away from your guardians, we can explain in more detail what is going to happen today. Some of you will have received invitations to apply for music school, or a school that concentrates on astronomy or advanced mathematics or horseback riding. But as you may have supposed by now, you are actually here to be evaluated for acceptance to the Magisterium.”  
  
The master raised her arms and Aaron watched in amazement as the regular white walls were replaced by the rough stone of an enormous cavern, glimmering with flecks of some mineral. If this was what magic could do, Aaron never wanted to see the mundane again.  
  
“Wow,” he heard the black-haired boy breathe. “Holy cow.”  
  
Master Milagros seemed to become more at ease from the display of awe. “Some of you are legacy students, with parents or other family who have attended the Magisterium.”  
  
Aaron heard the boy beside him snort in amusement there, but the master plowed on.  
  
“Others have been chosen because we believe you have the potential to become mages. But none of you are assured a place. Only the Masters know what makes a perfect candidate.”  
  
_Believe me_, Aaron thought. _I’m all too aware._ Beth had told him as much as she could about the Trial, about what the letter would look like when it came, what would happen during the tests, and what scores guaranteed that an aspirant would get into the Magisterium, as calculated from the scores she could remember at her own, failed, Trial.  
  
“What happens if you don’t get in?” asked a small girl with cornrows.  
  
“A good question, Gwenda Mason!” she said cheerfully. “We will make sure that neither you nor your family could ever be hurt and so that you wouldn’t be able succumb to the elements, should you prove to not have sufficient power or control. Those of you who are legacies will know about the dangers untrained mages can pose to themselves and others.”  
  
A few people started to murmur and Aaron saw people glancing at a pretty girl in a caramel sewater, who had gone very stiff.  
  
Some kids tried asking more questions, which Master Milagros ignored. The cavern walls slowly faded back to the ordinary white ones. Aaron already missed the strange beauty of them.  
  
“The pens in front of you are special,” Master Milagros said, sounding like her newfound confidence had faded away with the walls. “If you don’t use your pen, we won’t be able to read your test. Shake it to activate the ink. And remember to show your work!”  
  
Aaron picked up the pen, looking at it for a moment. It looked for all the world like a regular blue pen. He shook it once, and silently willed it to _work, please_. To his relief, it did, the ink flowing smoothly out when he tested it.  
  
The questions, on the other hand… Aaron considered himself a reasonably intelligent guy. He got decent enough grades and he could generally be counted on to answer the teacher’s questions when required. But the questions contained in the test booklet were sheer nonsense. How was he supposed to know about wyverns, or belladonna, or any of the other bizarre questions?  
  
His despair was interrupted when the black-haired boy’s pen practically exploded. Aaron managed to duck under his desk just in time, but the effect was still devastating. He had no idea how so much ink was contained in that little pen. Glancing at his shoes, he was pretty sure that parts of his worn sneakers were permanently stained now. Eventually, the boy dropped the pen and it stopped, but it was clear the damage had been done. Still, Aaron crawled back onto his chair.  
  
His own desk and test weren’t bad- a few dots of ink here and there. It was _nothing_ compared to the sheer carnage that was the other boy’s things. His test, hands, desk, parts of his jeans and shirt- hell, even his hair hadn’t escaped the wrath of the pen.  
  
“Callum Hunt,” Master Milagros said, looking as shocked as the boy- Callum, as the master had called him. “Please- please leave the room and clean yourself up, then wait in the hallway until the group rejoins you.”  
  
The poor boy stood shakily to his feet and Aaron tried to flash him a sympathetic smile, but he wasn’t sure if he saw. Someone giggled and Aaron felt aggressively sorry for Callum. He couldn’t even imagine what he would do if that had happened to him. Die on the spot, probably.  
  
“Alright everyone! Get back to your tests,” Master Milagros said, snapping out of her shocked trance to redirect them.  
  
With the help of a lot of things Aaron had worked out about multiple choice tests from school, so much cross-referencing of questions on the same topic, and nearly all the allotted time, he felt better about his chances. Even if he was wrong, he wasn’t going down without a fight. Hopefully.  
  
When he stepped out of the testing room, Callum was standing apart from everyone else, arms crossed firmly over his chest. Aaron could hear a few people talking about “ink” and “freak”. He thought, unpleasantly, of arriving at new schools with the whispers about how he was a foster child having already started.  
  
Before he could make any decisions, Master Milagros started calling out names, making groups of five and sending them off down the maze of halls. Aaron ended up with an Asian boy called Jasper deWinter, Callum, a girl called Kylie Miles and another called Celia Meijer, who had a pretty blue butterfly clip in her hair.  
  
They started their trek down the halls, Jasper chattering about random things and Aaron kind of acknowledging. He saw that Callum had fallen behind out of the corner of his eye- he’d noticed that he seemed to have trouble with one of his legs.  
  
When they stopped, they had arrived in a gymnasium of sorts. In the middle was a rope ladder leading up to a red ball, both suspended from the ceiling. Aaron grinned. Now _this_, he could do.  
  
“I’ll leave you all to Master Rockmaple now,” Master Milagros said when the last group arrived. She pointed to a man with a bristling red beard and a rather red nose. He looked a little like a gym teacher, with a whistle around his neck and a clipboard in hand, but he was dressed like all the other mages. “Good luck!”  
  
When they had all gathered around him, the master spoke. “This test is deceptively simple. Simply climb the rope ladder and get the ball. Who would like to go first?”  
  
A few kids shot their hands in the air. Aaron decided to wait and see what happened first.  
  
Master Rockmaple picked Jasper, who practically bounded like a puppy to go up to the ladder. He circled it first, examining it thoughtfully.  
  
After a few moments of this, the master got tired. “Are you quite ready?”  
  
A few people snickered and Jasper’s cheeks took on a distinctly rosy hue. Fuelled by his embarrassment, he flung himself onto the ladder and began to climb furiously. But as Aaron watched, the ladder seemed to grow longer and longer. Soon, Jasper couldn’t keep up and he fell, sprawling out on the crash mat, covered in the excess rope and wood. Slowly, it seemed to almost retract into the ceiling, though Aaron had no idea how.  
  
“Very good,” Master Rockmaple said, not sounding at all like he meant it. “Who would like to go next?”  
  
“Let me try it again,” he pleaded, sounding more than a bit whiny. “I know how to do it now.”  
  
“We have a lot of aspirants waiting for their turn,” the master said, moving on.  
  
“But it’s _not fair_. Someone will get it right and then everyone will know how to do it! I’m being punished for going first!”  
  
Master Rockmaple raised one large eyebrow skeptically. “It looked to me like you wanted to go first. But very well, Jasper. If there’s time after everyone else is done, and you’d still like to try again, you may.”  
  
Jasper didn’t look very pleased, but he walked back off the mats. After him came a few more volunteers, but soon Master Rockmaple had to start calling names. No one was able to reach the top, the closest being Celia, who made it half-way up before crashing back down, her hairlip breaking in the process. Aaron had winced sympathetically when it happened.  
  
“Aaron Stewart,” Master Rockmaple called and he got his head back in the game. He could do this. He _would_.  
  
He walked up to the ladder and launched himself off from the ground. Even when he couldn’t feel the concrete under his feet, he kept “pressing” off it, using the rest of his focus to make sure his movement up the ladder was as swift as possible. Soon, Aaron realized he was almost there. He could hear that a hush had fallen over the group and pushed himself just a little harder.  
  
Smacking the ball was a highly satisfying experience for Aaron. It made a good, solid sound and he could hear that some of the others below were clapping. Even as the ladder started to send him downwards, he kept looking up and spotted where the short chain was attached to the ceiling from a hook.  
  
That struck Aaron as odd; wouldn’t the masters want the ball to be attached more securely? He though about that as he slid down and jumped off the ladder onto the mat.  
  
“Very good,” Master Rockmaple said, exactly how he’d said it to everyone else. He nodded and stepped back into line, where Jasper clapped him maybe a _little_ too hard on the back to be friendly.  
  
“Callum Hunt,” he said next and Call, still somewhat covered in ink stepped forwards.  
  
“I can’t.” He said it with his arms crossed, already prepared for an argument that hadn’t even started yet.  
  
“Why not?”  
  
Callum stared at the mage as though it should be obvious. “My leg. I can’t do gym stuff.”  
  
Master Rockmaple shrugged. “Then don’t.”  
  
An angry scowl twisted Callum’s face. “It’s not an excuse, you know. My leg bones shattered when I was a baby. I’ve had ten operations, and as a result, I’ve got sixty iron screws in there holding my leg together. Do you need to see the scars?”  
  
He didn’t look happy to admit the last part, but Callum stood strong, waiting for the master’s response.  
  
He fiddled with his whistle. “These tests aren’t all obvious. At least try, Callum. If you fail, we move on to the next one.”  
  
Call huffed, frustrated, but turned to the ladder. For a minute, it looked like he wasn’t doing anything- then Aaron heard chains clanking and he looked up. Call was controlling the chain, pulling it around. He watched, mesmerized, as he managed to lift the chain off the hook. It plummeted for a moment, but then Callum managed to “catch” it again. It lurched slowly towards him and then it dropped into his outstretched arms.  
  
“Here you go.” Call turned to Master Rockmaple, handing over the red ball. Callum's face was completely even in a way that suggested distaste.  
  
Aaron could feel laughter bubbling in his chest. That was one way to do it, he supposed.  
  
Impassively, the master lifted the ball out of Callum’s hands and sent it back up. It floated back though the air and hooked itself back onto the ceiling.  
  
“Alright. We don’t have time for any retries-” here, Jasper made a sound like an angered duck “-so follow me and we’ll go to your next test.”  
  
When they filed back out into the seemingly endless halls, Aaron made sure to wait for Callum, who was dead last leaving. He seemed surprised to see him.  
  
“That was so cool!” he told him. “I have no idea how you did that, but I can’t believe that Master Rockmaple just stood there like-”  
  
Aaron cut himself off to do his best exaggerated impression of the master’s expression of neutral indifference-slash-boredom. Callum laughed softly, but then stopped himself abruptly.  
  
“Why are you talking to me?” he asked, his face settling on suspicion.  
  
“Because I thought that was cool? Why else?”  
  
Callum was about to respond when they turned the corner and found the rest of the group waiting for them. Master Rockmaple looked annoyed, but didn’t tell them off. Instead, he opened the door to a new room and went inside.  
  
“My name’s Call,” whispered the boy as they followed him in.  
  
“I’m Aaron,” he whispered back. “Friends?”  
  
Call looked perplexed, but nodded. “Alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CC and HB: Aaron "slithered" down the ladder  
Me: ... that's some crazy rope burn, then
> 
> Forgot to mention on chapter one, but the title comes from "Starlight", by Muse. The song has nothing to do with anything related to this fic, but credit where credit is due.
> 
> My Tumblr is [nonbinary-androids](https://nonbinary-androids.tumblr.com/), where you can find updates regarding my wip progress, the occasional Magisterium meme, and pictures of cute cats.


	3. choices to be made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Iron Trial wraps up, and the Masters pick their young apprentices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is 100% unedited G A R B A G E, but it's here! The good news is that I've finished the full outline for this fic, so I should be faster on updating now. I'm hoping to get chapter eight up by Christmastime this year, but we'll see how this goes, huh?
> 
> Other notes: I'll probably be coming back and editing the hell out of these first three chapters, likely with the assistance of my beta reader(s). Enjoy this in its first draft glory while it's still up.

The third testing room was nearly identical to the first one. There didn’t appear to be any sort of arranged seating, so Aaron plunked himself down in the nearest seat available. Call hesitated for a moment before he sat at the desk next to him, glancing over at Aaron as he did so.

“Master Rockmaple!” called out a girl- Aaron thought her name might have been Kylie- as she sat down. “Master Rockmaple, I don’t have a pen!”

“Nor will you need one,” he said, standing at the front of the room. “This is a test of your control over your magic. You will be using the element of air. Concentrate on the paper in front of you until you are able to lift it off the desk, using only the energy of your thoughts. Lift it straight up, without allowing it to wobble or fall. Once that is accomplished, please rise and join me at the front.”

Now this was interesting. Aaron had done things like this before- hell, he’d done this particular trick before, practicing for the Trial. But it was always a little miraculous when he managed to do it. Blocking out everything else, Aaron settled down and focused all his thoughts onto his paper.

_ Rise _ , he thought forcefully at it. He imagined the air pushing it upwards, holding it steady, and to his eternal delight, it did. It stayed even as it rose, cushioned by the air pushing it up. Silently, Aaron counted down from five and then let the page settle back down onto the desk. He grinned, satisfied with his performance.

He stood and was happy to notice that he was the first to finish the task. Call was most of the way there- he was just making it rise, seeming to focus mainly on keeping it steady. As Aaron watched, it stilled and held, quivering just the tiniest bit. As he began to walk towards the front, he saw it begin its slow descent.

Master Rockmaple didn’t so much as glance at Aaron, but he didn’t mind. His eyes were locked onto Call’s as the other boy rose, smiling triumphantly. He walked over, coming to stand beside Aaron.

“Nice job!” Aaron whispered. Call smiled, just the tiniest bit.

“You too, wonder boy,” he whispered back and Aaron felt relatively sure he was joking.

A rapid movement caught his eye and Aaron turned his head to look at Jasper. From this distance, he couldn’t tell what he was doing but it looked… odd, to say the least. He though he saw a glimmer of silvery metal, but couldn’t think of that that could be.

Glancing at Call, he was looking at Jasper with a face of open suspicion. It wasn’t helped when Jasper, using his magic, lifted the paper and folded it into an airplane. It certainly wasn’t helped when he sent it flying directly into Call’s forehead, the tip crumpling on impact. Aaron winced in sympathy.

“That is quite enough,” Master Rockmaple told Jasper, although he didn’t sound entirely like he meant it. “Come up here.”

He did, practically sauntering up and taking his place on the master’s other side. But as he did, he shot a distinctly smug look Call’s way.

“Oof. You good?” Aaron asked instead of talking to Jasper. “That looked like it stung.”

“It does.” Call sighed, rubbing at the reddened spot on his forehead. “Man, I forgot how much I don’t like Jasper.”

“I can’t say I blame you. While magically, that was pretty cool, it was also kind of an asshole move.”

Call snorted softly. “You can say that again.”

They stood together in companionable silence as more kids either joined them up front or continued looking intently at their pages. When it became apparent that the people left were never going to manage it, Master Rockmaple ended the test.

“Alright,” he said firmly. “Everyone, bring me your papers and I’ll give you your marks. Come on, let’s get this room cleaned up for the next group.”

Quietly, they all picked up their papers and handed them over to the master. He lead them all down even more hallways until they reached a large, empty room with other aspirants already waiting and a handful of doors guarded by other mages.

He came to rest beside Callum, a little ways away from the others. Master Rockmaple walked right past them, out another door.

“So,” Aaron said, just to break the silence.

“So,” Call replied, loosely crossing his arms.

“You know Jasper well?”

“Nope,” he said, popping the p. “We only know each other because our parents sometimes go to the same parties. But as, like, a general stereotype jerk-slash-failed jock, yeah. Most of his lines are recycled to hell and back.”

Aaron snickered at little at that, even if he felt a little bad about laughing at someone else’s expense. “And I guess you’d know about jerks and failed jocks?”

It was the wrong thing to say. He could feel it the second after it came out of his mouth, especially when Call’s gaze flicked down to the ground.

“I mean, with this  _ thing _ -” he gestured at his bad leg “-it’s kind of hard not to.”

“I’m sorry,” he said weakly, not knowing what to say. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Most people don't," Call muttered, kicking at a tiny piece of gravel. "Doesn't make it sting less."

Desperately, Aaron fished for something,  _ anything _ , to say. He really hadn't meant for his comment to come across like it did, but there wasn’t any use denying that it had. Finally, his eyes snagged on Call’s t-shirt- it had a faded picture of Frodo from the Lord of the Rings trilogy. That, at least, was something he could work with.

“I see you have good taste in movies,” Aaron said softly, giving Call the option to ignore him.

But Call looked up from the floor, a tentative smile on his face. “You’re a fellow fan?”

“More of the books than anything else,” Aaron admitted freely, relief in his tone. “I had all of them until my copy of the Hobbit literally fell apart while I was reading it. It hit me on the nose on the way down.”

He laughed, then seemed surprised about it. “No way, that sucks! I got the trilogy for Christmas last year, and…”

After that, the conversation eased somewhat, the pair falling into a comfortable chatter as they waited. One by one, their fellow aspirants were called up and sent into testing rooms, vanishing afterwards. Aaron could feel himself getting twitchier as time went on- he’d catch his gaze wandering over to the Masters by the doors, or tapping his foot.

Call smiled sympathetically when he caught Aaron glancing over again. “All the waiting sucks, huh?”

He groaned and Call laughed lightly. “I need to get the suspense over with so I can start the grieving process, you know?”

“You’re not going to need to grieve anything,” Call said plainly, but not impolitely. “Believe me, you’re getting in.”

“How do you know?” Aaron asked, genuinely curious. “Are you, like, a legacy or whatever mages with mage families are called?”

“Legacies, and my dad’s actually worked for the school. He told me about the testing process and how they grade you before I came. Refused to tell me what would actually happen though,” Call said, sounding a little remorseful. Then he locked eyes with Aaron again. “If I’m remembering things right, you’re probably at the top of our group right now.”

He had just opened his mouth to reply when one of the mages called his name.

“Good luck, I guess,” Call said, the tiniest grin on his face. “Go kick magical ass.”

“Good luck to you too, whenever you get called,” Aaron said, then turned to the doors.

Inside the room, it was dim and mostly empty, the only other thing that wasn’t Aaron being the Master sitting in the middle and holding a bowl with a flame in the middle. He seemed to be perfectly calm and still, almost statuesque in nature. Privately, Aaron wondered if mages could turn themselves into statues. Maybe that was what they did instead of sleeping?

“Did you know that to obtain good posture, people used to walk around with books balanced on their heads?” The mage spoke in a low, rumbling voice and stood elegantly. Aaron figured that he probably had done that at some point, if his ramrod straight back was anything to go by. “If the books slipped, they would have to start over again.”

Aaron nodded wordlessly and the master- Master Rufus, if he was remembering correctly- looked pleased. “Good. We’ll be doing something a little like that.”

He extended the bowl and Aaron got a better look at it. There was water in most of the bowl, and the flame was not so much hovering above it, but actually  _ within _ the water. He marvelled at it for a moment, before he realized that Master Rufus was holding out the bowl for him to take.

“I don’t know how to do that,” he protested. “It’ll just go out.”

Rufus smiled serenely. “I don’t doubt that you think that. But I assure you, you can. Take it and see how long you can keep it burning.”

Aaron seriously doubted that he could manage that, but the master seemed determined to make him try. Okay, he thought. How different could this be from what he’d done before? He took the bowl very carefully, trying not to tip the bowl. To his surprise, the flame didn’t immediately go out, which he took as a good start.

“The fire will feed off of your magic. At the moment, I’m maintaining it for you, but I’ll let it go in a moment. Take this time to focus on the flame.”

He gazed into the fire and tried to feed it with his energy. It was like the paper, Aaron reminded himself. Just…  _ push _ at it.

It jumped abruptly and Aaron tried to soothe it a little. He pictured the flame as it had been, just letting it draw off of him as needed. He was able to keep it steady after that, even as he could feel a gentle pull at the top of his stomach. His magic, he knew. It tended to tug at him.

Eventually, Master Rufus’ hands settled over his own and gently pulled away the bowl. Aaron felt the pull of magic fade away.

“Well done,” he said, looking at Aaron curiously. “Not many aspirants are able to pull that off, especially with such finesse. You’ve got great potential.”

His cheeks suddenly burning, Aaron glanced down at the floor. “It’s really nothing. It’s just push and pull.”

The master huffed amusedly. “The fact you call that easy is enough to tell me otherwise, young mage. Magic is a complex feat.”

Master Rufus stepped aside, letting Aaron pass through to the door on the other side. “Your Iron Trial is officially over, Aaron Stewart. I hope you’re still interested in joining us at the Magisterium.”

A smile curled across Aaron’s face almost immediately at the thought. The Magisterium had been what he’d wanted from the moment that he’d heard about it. To be entrenched in magic. He stepped past Rufus, moving to the door. He felt the slight pressure of the master’s eyes, right up until he closed the door behind him.

The brightness of the hangar was something of a shock after the dimness of the final testing room. Aaron blinked as he stepped out towards the bleachers, trying to clear the spots from his vision. Through them, he could see that the room was mostly parents, pacing about and chatting amongst each other. There were a few kids too, some in tears and others grinning in triumph, but Aaron didn’t recognize any of them. Distantly, he wished that Call had finished the testing too, so he’d have a familiar face to sit by.

Still, he strolled off to the bleachers and settled on the bottom seats. There were huge whiteboards off to the side, with lists of names and testing scores written in various colours. Aaron’s name was at the top of the first board, next to Tamara Rajavi, who he thought had been in his initial group. Call’s was right beneath theirs, with a gap of only a few points separating them. Under that was Celia, then Jasper. But even as Aaron read them, the mages, through some unseen signal, went about rewriting the scores.

“Hey,” someone said from beside Aaron and he jumped. He twisted his head around to se Call, standing beside him. “Not sitting with your family?”

“Nah,” Aaron said awkwardly, not quite willing to talk about it. “They couldn’t be here today.”

“That sucks,” Call said sympathetically. “Want to come sit with me and my dad?”

He was a little surprised that Call had offered, but he certainly wasn’t going to say no. “Yeah, sure!”

Aaron stood from the cold metal and fell into step with Call. “How do you think you did?”

“It wasn’t my best performance ever, but I’m pretty sure that I’m the only one who had someone to teach them before now, so it probably evens out. They’ll be putting up my score now anyways, so I guess we’ll find out. You’re definitely in, though.”

“Well, if I’m in, then you’re in for sure,” Aaron protested. “You were only a few points behind me, and your stunt with the ball in Master Rockmaple’s trial was way more impressive than what I did.”

Call raised an eyebrow. “You actually did what they wanted you to. I just grabbed it off the hook.”

“Did you see anyone else doing that? Because I feel like it’s a lot harder than you’re making it sound.”

“Like I said, prior learning. Magic’s really not that hard when you get the hang of it,” Call explained, a small smile on his face. “Really. I bet you’ll get good, fast.”

“I guess. I’m self-taught so far, and it seems… really hard. You need so much fine control. It’s like- like trying to use a hammer to get a sewing needle through fabric, instead of a nail through wood,” Aaron said, waving his hands around a little. Call nodded.

“That’s why you need a teacher. And a counterweight,” he added thoughtfully. “Although I tend to to just hammer through it.”

There, Call mimed swinging something like a baseball bat and Aaron laughed. “The more power, the more fun, you know? It definitely get you more explosions.”

“I don’t exactly know if more explosions is a good thing,” Aaron said wryly.

“It is in my books! Oh hey, there’s my dad.” He pointed to a man with large glasses and dark brown hair. Aaron thought he remembered seeing him while waiting for the trial to begin. “He’s the biologist of the family.”

“I thought that he worked here?” asked Aaron.

“Nah,” Call replied, leading him through the growing crowd. “That’s dad numero dos who works at the Magisterium. Sam’s dad number one, and also completely non-magical. Unless you’re counting his baking skills, in which case, he’s the most skilled mage here. Hey, Dad!”

The last part was directed at the man, who jerked his head up from his phone and smiled. “Hey, kiddo. Done with testing?”

“For now.” He flopped dramatically onto the bleachers and Sam chuckled softly. “Tests are pure evil.”

“They weren’t that bad, aside from the first one,” Aaron said, sitting beside him. “That one made zero sense.”

Speaking drew Sam’s attention, and he found the older man’s eyes locked onto his face. “Well, hello there.”

“Right! Dad, meet Aaron. Aaron, officially meet Dad One. He’s the cool one,” Call said, sitting up properly from his emo hunch.

Sam laughed again, before schooling his features into something vaguely resembling sternness. “Hey, William’s pretty cool too.”

“Dad, I love you, and I love Dad, but his idea of fun is sitting in a library and not talking to anyone while he reads about our early history or whatever he does. You’ve at least got Dungeons and Dragons for cool points,” Call said, and it was clear from the look on Sam’s face that it was true. Aaron smiled a little at the image. Then, Sam’s attention was pulled away.

“Oh- the teachers are coming back.”

And indeed they were, the ten black-cloaked figures filing into the front of the room. A hush fell over the hangar, all the conversation dying off as Master North stepped into the centre.

“Before we start the selection process, I’d like to thank all the aspirants who worked so hard during the trials, and the parents who supported them during this testing period.”

“Yeah, sure they did,” Call muttered. “We did all the work.”

“Now, onto the choosing of our future students. I will warn you in advance the we at the Magisterium are highly selective and we do not guarantee any students, regardless of scores or family history.” The master swept his eyes over the assembled crowd, as if impressing his words on all of them. Aaron suddenly wished that the whiteboards were still in the room. “There are nine masters present, each of whom is permitted to take up to six students. Are there any questions?”

The room was dead silent, barring the quiet coughing of someone on the other side of the room. Master North nodded.

“Then the selection will now start. As the most senior master, Master Rufus will begin. If and when your name is called, please come to the front and stand by your new master.”

With that, he swept off to the side, leaving the stage to Master Rufus. The mage stepped forwards elegantly, and Aaron remarked that his eyes seemed to land on them for a second longer than anyone else.

“Aaron Stewart,” he said, the picture of serenity.

A small round of applause broke out, and Call had to gently shove Aaron to get him moving. He stood, smiling, and walked down to stand beside the master. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Call giving him the thumbs up.

“And Tamara Ravaji.”

A girl from Aaron’s original testing group stood gracefully, striding down the bleachers. Her parents clapped behind her, but did nothing else. Quickly, she came to stand beside him, looking more like she’d failed than won. Regardless, Aaron gave her a smile, which she briefly returned.

“That will be all.”

Master Rufus turned on his heel, returning to the line of masters. Tamara followed, and so Aaron did the same. He was a little disappointed that Call wasn’t in his group, but Tamara looked nice and he was sure that they would get along.

Next up was Master Milagros, who still looked like she thought the aspirants might suddenly decide to bite.

“Callum Hunt,” she said. Call bounded down to join her, glancing over at Aaron quickly and they swapped tiny smiles.

The ceremony dragged on somewhat after that. Aaron grew bored after Milagros’ apprentice group was called, when most of the faces he recognized were called. It was mostly mages calling names, applause, the aspirant joining their new master, and then the process repeating anywhere from two to six times, and then a new master stepping forwards.

Finally, it ended when Master Tanaka called a timid-looking boy called Oliver Martin who’d scored in the upper middle of the pack, if Aaron was remembering correctly. When she was done, Master North took the stage again.

“Thank you all for coming to the 2014 Iron Trials. For those of you who have been accepted, we are glad to have you here. To the aspirants who did not make it into the Magisterium, we wish you well and hope for your academic pursuits. With that, I invite those of you accepted to say your goodbyes and gather your things. We will be leaving in thirty minutes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand cut! You're gonna have to wait for the next chapter for now, unfortunately. Until then, if you'd like to come party with me at [nonbinary-androids](https://nonbinary-androids.tumblr.com/) or check out my [WIP page](https://nonbinary-androids.tumblr.com/wips) to see my progress, I promise I don't bite! Hope to see you with the next chapter.


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